


Criminal

by deLioncourts



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, Choking, Eventual Smut, Gunplay, Light Sadism, M/M, Minor Character Death, Tags will update as chapters are posted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deLioncourts/pseuds/deLioncourts
Summary: There’s a hand on his throat then, pressing him back into the wall. Not enough pressure to cut off his breath but a steady presence. A veiled threat. Younghoon’s eyes fly open and he’s face to face with the shadow that’s been watching him all night. Sharp eyes bore into him and he feels the hysteria of panic bubble in his chest - the unsettling feeling from earlier suddenly making sense. The man smiles as he feels him shaking against his hand; dimpled and beautiful and terrifying.Younghoon feels the barrel of the gun rest against his forehead. It’s still hot. He wills himself not to scream. He’s not sure he could find his voice if he tried. The man speaks for him.“You didn’t see anything. You were never even here were you, pretty?”Younghoon shakes his head. He whispers. “Nothing. I swear.”“Good boy.”
Relationships: Ji Changmin | Q/Kim Younghoon
Comments: 11
Kudos: 85





	1. not with a whimper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i'm here to invade as many fandom tags this year as possible i guess. hope you guys enjoy. this was supposed to be just a one-shot offering but my ideas ran away with me so now you're getting chapters. assassin!changmin lives in my head rent free. :)

_So elegant, a criminal who destroys me_

_The moment I fall for you, is thе end of my innocence_

_I’m only getting dragged in more deeply_

_I don’t want to get away, destroy me completely_

  
  
  


Clubbing on a Thursday night seems like a pretty ridiculous idea to Younghoon in all honesty but he’s never been one to refuse Chanhee. Especially since his best friend is on the heels of a pretty terrible breakup and needs to let off some steam. And so he was dragged along for a midweek night out, bass booming too loudly in his ears and an eye on the clock searching for a reasonable hour to make his exit and settle in the warm comfort of his own bed.

He’s never been much of a dancer. His limbs too long and uncoordinated to really make a scene. So he sits perched at the bar, keeping an eye on Kevin and Chanhee as they swim in the sea of bodies in the center of the floor and make a show of themselves. He downs the rest of his beer and swivels on his stool, waving down the bartender to order another. 

He scans the room and swirls the amber liquid in his glass, surveying the plethora of personalities who all found their way to this mid-tier club in the most dismal part of the city. It’s not as packed as it would be on a weekend and for that at least, he’s grateful. 

It’s only after a few minutes of bemused people watching that Younghoon feels a heavy weight on him, the phantom niggling sensation of knowing that he himself is being watched prickling in the corner of his eye. He shifts to look towards the end of the bar, catching the offending gaze in question.

A pair of dark eyes meet his own, almost black in the dim lighting that surrounds them. The man is handsome, Younghoon registers uselessly. All disheveled black hair and piercing stares, clad in leather like some fucked up caricature in a Quentin Tarantino movie. He nods in acknowledgement, gesturing idiotically with the drink in his hand before taking a sip. He wants to chastise himself immediately for being so incredibly awkward but what else is he supposed to do when someone who looks like _that_ won’t take their eyes off him. Almost looking at Younghoon like he’s studying him; like he’s prey in an open field, waiting for the smallest misstep to strike. Younghoon feels a sensation he can’t quite place start to creep up his spine.

But then the man’s lips quirk up into a smile. He nods back, breaking the aura of tension that had begun to crawl in like a fog. He looks past Younghoon then, like he spots someone familiar behind him then turns his attention back to the bar. Younghoon, unsure of what to make of it, tries to shake off the entire exchange and gets to his feet.

He’s about to make his way to the dance floor to tell his friends that he's had enough for one evening when a body collides into him suddenly, knocking him just enough off his axis to stumble sideways. He tries to steady the man that ran into him, clearly drunk and clutching at Younghoon’s jacket for purchase. The pungent stench of cigarettes and cheap whisky waft into his senses and his skin crawls. 

“Sorry about that, kid. Must have left my manners at home.” He chuckles, teeth yellow and face worn like leather. He straightens himself out and pats Younghoon on the shoulder before brushing past him and heading towards the back of the club. 

Younghoon takes stock of himself. Sighing heavily at the second odd occurrence in as many minutes. He’s pulling his jacket back in place when he notices it feels lighter. He reaches into his pockets and curses out loud when realization hits him like a brick. He’s one collision up and one wallet short... 

Turning heel and taking off in the direction the man was headed, he runs towards the hallway and past the bathrooms. He shoves past a couple of loitering bodies as he sees the swing of the back door out into the alleyway. He knows it’s probably not his brightest idea to be chasing down a stranger like this. Especially one who was willingly brazen enough to pickpocket him right in the middle of a crowd, but his adrenaline and his will to not lose all of his fucking money ultimately win out. In his rush he also doesn’t notice that he’s not the only one who follows.

He bursts through the alleyway door and looks around, trying to see which direction the robber could have gone. It’s empty. 

He decides to go left and takes no more than two steps towards the main road before there’s an arm around his neck, elbow cutting into his windpipe. He scrambles at the grip on his throat trying to pry it far enough away so he can gasp for air, kicking and swinging behind him but it’s no use. The man is too strong. Smoke scented laughter fills his ears as Younghoon slowly chokes. 

Just when his vision is starting to blur around the edges his attacker is ripped from his body. He can hear the crack of bone against the pavement and he flinches from where he’s fallen back against the grimy wall of the alleyway. Through the water in his eyes he can make out the man in leather from the bar as he approaches the crumpled form on the ground, slamming the heel of his boot against his neck. The scream is garbled - blood quickly pooling in the lungs blocking the sound from hitting the air. Younghoon watches in muted horror as his savior pulls a gun from his coat. The click of the safety has him turning away and squeezing his eyes shut. He knows what’s coming next. 

One shot rings out in the darkness. Then, _silence._

There’s a hand on his throat then, pressing him back into the wall. Not enough pressure to cut off his breath but a steady presence. A veiled threat. Younghoon’s eyes fly open and he’s face to face with the shadow that’s been watching him all night. Sharp eyes bore into him and he feels the hysteria of panic bubble in his chest - the unsettling feeling from earlier suddenly making sense. The man smiles as he feels him shaking against his hand; dimpled and beautiful and terrifying.

Younghoon feels the barrel of the gun rest against his forehead. It’s still hot. He wills himself not to scream. He’s not sure he could find his voice if he tried. The man speaks for him.

“You didn’t see anything. You were never even here were you, pretty?”

Younghoon shakes his head. He whispers. “Nothing. I swear.”

“Good boy.” 

The hand around his neck squeezes tight, a final warning, before it disappears. Younghoon feels his legs give way and he crumples to the ground. He looks up. The man is gone. 

\-----

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Younghoon isn’t sure how long he’s sat frozen in the alley staring in shock at the dead body at his feet. Minutes? _Hours?_ He vaguely registers one of the bartenders emerging from the doorway, looking at the scene with an odd sense of knowing that Younghoon isn’t sure what to make of. 

His wallet is shoved into his hands and he’s hoisted onto his feet. Through the static in his ears he knows he’s told to go home, to say nothing, that it’s being taken care of. _It_ , Younghoon realizes with a wave of nausea, being the body. A living, breathing person one second. The next, not…

He blinks. He's in a taxi. He blinks again. He’s through the door of his apartment. 

He collapses on his couch and in a moment of lucidity he remembers to check his phone. There’s a couple of messages from Kevin and Chanhee, wondering where the hell he ran off to and joking about being taken home by some strange man. _If only they knew._ He sends a quick “I’m okay. Wasn’t feeling well. Made it home safe.” before burrowing into the cushions and closing his eyes, trying to sort out how the hell the night got so far out of hand.

He thinks he should feel more than he does. The adrenaline wearing off and an empty kind of numbness settling in its place. Will the bartender have called the police? Should _he_ have? Will uniformed officers come bursting through the door at any minute to drag him to the station and demand he recount his side of the story? Did that man deserve to die? Why doesn’t he feel more distraught than he should about watching a life being taken right in front of his eyes?

Exhaustion finally seeps into his limbs and wraps around him like a heavy blanket. He knows he’s going to have more questions than answers. There’s only so much he can untangle in one evening. But there’s still one thought that stays with him. The mystery of the man at the bar. Who was he and why was Younghoon spared? 

He drifts into a restless slumber and dreams of dark eyes and gun smoke.

  
  


\-----

  
  


Younghoon ends up calling out of work on Friday, needing the long weekend to get his collective shit together before being seen again in public. Repressing a traumatic experience is made a lot easier when you don’t immediately have your boss drowning you with tasks. He knows Kevin will cover for him. The two of them had gotten the same journalism internship straight out of college, sharing the joint goal of eventually rising in the ranks of Seoul’s fastest growing internet news start up. 

Chanhee stops by on Sunday, bringing Younghoon dinner and telling him lovingly that he looks like shit and needs to stop rapidly flicking between news stations. He eventually tears the remote away from him to put on a movie and force him to eat.

“I’m just looking for something interesting to write about for work. I’m behind.” Younghoon lies - the fact that he’s been glued to his phone and the TV searching for any information about what happened at the bar and yet come up short going unsaid. Perhaps it’s better that nothing’s been reported. Maybe he can pretend it never happened at all. With this thought in mind he finally submits, shoving a spoonful of noodles in his mouth and letting the well cooked meal warm his insides. He almost feels better.

\-----

  
  


Monday comes and Younghoon feels like a semblance of himself again. Aside from the fact that he’d overslept and almost missed his train, he arrives at work just barely on time and slides behind his desk. He boots up his work computer and double checks the area headlines one last time. Still nothing. Whoever the hell the man was who’d been taken out that night obviously didn’t have anyone looking for him. He sighs in relief. 

Kevin bustles in not long after, setting a giant coffee down in front of Younghoon after making his morning rounds to all the main offices. They were still interns after all and with that came the grunt work: coffee orders, paper filing, and whatever other menial tasks the higher ups felt like saddling them with for the day. Younghoon is about to sort through the files in front of him for his dailies when Sangyeon approaches their desks.

Their boss is as undeniably gorgeous as he is terrifying, a fact Kevin’s always been the first to point out from the second they started this job. Younghoon has to stifle a laugh as his friend straightens up next to him, taking the last coffee from the tray and handing it to the man in front of them. Younghoon doesn’t miss the way he coyly smiles and bats his fucking eyelashes like he’s some kind of 50’s seductress and if Younghoon could roll his eyes into the back of his head he would.

“Thank you, Kevin.” Sangyeon nods, all business and oblivious as ever. Younghoon knows every trick in Kevin’s book and he knows that eventually that hard exterior will crack or his friend will die trying. “There’s a new intern starting today. I need you guys to get him set up. Teach him the ropes. I think he’s going to be a valuable asset to our growing little team.”

“Of course,” Kevin replies sweetly, “Whatever you need bossman.” 

Sangyeon huffs at verbiage but Younghoon doesn’t miss the rare smile that crosses his face. Maybe his friend won’t have to work so hard after all. 

“First order of business, don’t let him call me _bossman_. I let you two get away with enough as it is.” Sangyeon’s attention gets directed towards the elevators then, the last few workers trickling in. “Ah, here he is now. Ji Changmin! Let me introduce you to your training partners for the next few weeks.” 

Younghoon scoots back in his chair, getting up to greet the new intern. As he turns, his heart stops and he feels his body seize as the boy in question comes into view. Dark eyes covered in round rimmed glasses. A blazer slung across his shoulders where there once was fitted leather. Younghoon feels the room start to spin as he locks eyes with the man from the bar. He’s going to be sick. 

A flash of heated recognition crosses Changmin’s face before it steels itself into a warm smile. A complete 180 from the cold blooded killer Younghoon had witnessed less than a week ago. He reaches out his hand, all dimples and pleasantries and Younghoon tries not to vomit on his shoes.

“Looking forward to working with you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! how the hell is younghoon gonna handle his workload AND a new friend? stay tuned. 
> 
> i know my track record with chaptered fics isn't great but now i have an army of wonderful people keeping me motivated and inspired so we should be chugging along. also with my outline this won't be dauntingly huge either but it felt more fun to break it up.


	2. you got questions, i got answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the exposition chapter! look at me, actually posting another part of a chaptered work for once. i'm a changed woman. thank you for your patience! enjoy!

Younghoon makes it maybe 15 minutes before he has to excuse himself. He’s never been much of an actor and Kevin had been eyeing him with concern from the second Changmin had arrived. He played it off like he still wasn’t feeling well and ducked out during the middle of their office tour.

He’s bent over the small sink in the bathroom, splashing water on his face and trying to sort himself out. His reflection stares back at him, looking as worn and confused as he feels. Why was Changmin even  _ here _ ? Surely it had to be some kind of ruse. Younghoon didn’t suppose someone who just shoots a man unfettered walks around with a day job. He had to be here to eliminate the witness. To eliminate Younghoon.

There’s a knock at the door and Younghoon snaps from his thoughts. He’s not sure how long he’s been gone but it must be long enough for someone to come looking. Or at the very least for someone else to need the room. He straightens his tie and unlocks the door. Just as he swings it open there’s a hand against his chest, shoving him backwards into the room with an easy strength. He stutters as Changmin follows, locking the door behind him and fixing Younghoon with a cursory look. 

“I don’t understand how people wear these all day. Hurts my fucking nose after barely an hour,” Changmin mumbles, removing his glasses (obviously fake) and tucking them into his coat. “Why are you hiding away in here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me how to do my job?”

He smiles and it’s condescending, all dimples and veiled pleasantries. Younghoon sees the sharp edges in his posture and feels his fight or flight response start to kick up in his chest. He quickly scans the room for an out, Changmin blocking his only exit. There’s a broom nestled next to some cleaning supplies in the corner by the sink and he makes to grab it, quickly brandishing it out in front of him like a sword. Changmin follows the movement with a lean of his head, amused.

“Look I don’t know why you’re here or how you found me but I’m not going down without a fight.” The words sound ridiculous coming out of his mouth and Younghoon knows it. But whatever pride he has inside him, however minuscule, won’t let him just be taken out without any attempt to survive. 

“Cute,” Changmin muses and Younghoon takes his best shot, sending the broom towards his head with all the might he can muster. Changmin just smiles and catches the handle mid-swing. He yanks and pulls Younghoon towards him, using the redirection of momentum to knock his legs out from under him, sending Younghoon sprawling out on his back against the floor.

He winces and grabs his shoulder, the pain not nearly as bad as his bruised ego. He knew it was a fruitless endeavor to try and fight him off but at this point he was out of ideas. Changmin chucks the broom into the corner of the room and crouches beside him, face reflecting a vision of mirth that feels slightly unhinged. 

He places a knee against Younghoon’s sternum, pressing him down into the filthy bathroom tile. Younghoon grasps at his leg but the more he struggles the harder Changmin bears down, his strength and patience unmatched. Younghoon finally stills, the need to breathe winning out over the will to fight back.

“Now now, are you done? I just wanted to have a little chat.” 

“If you’re going to kill me just do it already.” Changmin chuckles in return and Younghoon feels like he’s being toyed with. Like meat being dangled in front of the mouth of a lion.

“Kill you? Sweetheart if I wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead days ago. In fact I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you again. We have a lot to talk about, you and I.”

He takes his weight off Younghoon’s chest and stands, reaching out his hand to help him up. Younghoon just blinks up at him dumbly and Changmin sighs, grabbing him by the arms and hoisting him upright like he weighs nothing.

“Wait, so if you’re not going to kill me, then why  _ are _ you here?” Younghoon asks, baffled. He regains function of his limbs and dusts off his pants, trying to make himself look respectable and not like he was just lying on a dirty bathroom floor.

“We can’t do this now. I’ll come by your place after work and we can talk about it then.” 

Younghoon balks. Like hell he’s going to let a murderer waltz into his apartment, the one place he feels safe. “Hang on what makes you think I’m going to just tell you where I live?”

He knows the words are wrong before they even leave his mouth. Changmin’s eyes narrow and he steps forward to crowd into Younghoon’s space. He may be shorter in stature but the ebb of his presence makes Younghoon feel so small. It fills him with the prickling sensation of fear but also something else running just beneath the surface that he can’t quite place. 

“What makes you think I don’t already know?” Younghoon’s breath catches in his throat, thoroughly unprepared for the prospect that Changmin might have had an eye on him since they met. It makes sense, of course, that he’d be keeping tabs on a witness to a kill, but it chills Younghoon to the core nonetheless.

Changmin’s face changes again, gentle facade shifting back into place easily as he reaches behind Younghoon and unlocks the door.

“Now, let’s get to work.”

  
  
  


\-----

  
  


Younghoon feels like he’s in the middle of a weird, shittily written alternate universe. He stands in the center of his living room, anxiously fiddling with the strings of the hoodie he’d thrown on after getting home from work, watching Changmin peruse the collection of books on his shelves. 

He looks almost normal, casual work attire and soft features in the low light of the evening sun creating the illusion that he fits into Younghoon’s space like he’s been there for years. It’s unnerving and yet somehow comforting at the same time, Younghoon thinks. It reminds him that there still might be a person under there. He supposes there’s only one way to find out. 

“Do you want a drink?” Younghoon fidgets. He needs something to do with his hands. Changmin nods and Younghoon grabs two beers from the fridge, handing one off before downing almost half the bottle faster than he means to. Changmin just grins blithely at him and takes a seat on his couch. He gestures to the empty spot next to him.

“Will you sit down already? You're even making  _ me  _ nervous.” He jokes. Younghoon highly doubts that but he sits on the other end of the couch anyway, clutching at his beer. “I told you, I’m just here to talk. I’m sure you must have questions.”

Younghoon takes another large swig. The alcohol takes the edge off a little, but Changmin’s steady and unreadable gaze still makes his skin buzz. 

“Yeah...I do. My original question still stands. What is this all about? Why did you suddenly show up at my job if you weren’t there to kill me? I highly doubt it was because you need money.”

Changmin laughs and this time it’s genuine enough that it startles Younghoon for a moment.  _ Real. Person. _ Not a sentient robot killing machine.

“You’d be right about that. Well, I  _ am _ going to be making money but it’s not from writing articles about celebrity bread recipes or whatever the hell else those guys have you doing up there.”

Younghoon almost wants to be offended but he remembers his most successful article was titled “13 Potatoes That Look Like Channing Tatum” and he keeps his mouth shut. 

“As you’ve probably figured out by now, I kill people for a living. Not to toot my own horn but I have been lauded as one of the best hitmen in Seoul.” Changmin continues, smug, almost as if he was bragging to some stranger he was trying to hit on at a bar. “It just so happens that my next target is someone in your building. I took the job to get inside. To do a little reconnaissance.”

Younghoon’s mind races. Who the hell at his boring office job would warrant a contract like this? If Changmin is to be believed this must be bigger than it sounds. He voices this concern and Changmin takes a sip of his drink.

“Kim Youngmin. Your one and only CEO. Apparently the company you work for is one of several businesses he uses to funnel money into the underground. Classic extortion tactics. Only he seems to have racked up quite a bit of debt. And this isn’t his first offense either. The mobs running this city don’t exactly take too kindly to being made fools of.”

“You work for the mob???” Younghoon gapes. “What the hell kind of weird ass movie am I in right now?”

“It’s called reality I’m afraid. And I don’t ‘work for the mob.’ I’m simply….an independent contractor. I don’t take well to working in large groups.”

Younghoon downs the rest of his beer and sets the bottle on the table. He has a lot of questions but he feels like every time one gets answered ten more pop up in their place. He chooses the most persistent one at the front of his thoughts. 

“Can I ask you...why? Why do you kill people for a living?”

Changmin studies him for a long moment, finishing his own drink and discarding the bottle next to Younghoons. It paints a bizarre picture. Two identical mundane items strewn from two very different people.

“If you’re looking for some kind of tragic backstory there isn’t one. It pays, quite well I might add. And it’s  _ fun.  _ Watching horrible people get what they deserve. Being the one to snuff them out. It’s a dream, really.” That dark light passes over Changmin’s expression, the one he’d seen the other night just moments before he’d pulled the trigger. It makes Younghoon’s throat tighten and his fingers tingle. His voice shakes slightly but he presses on. 

“What do you mean horrible people?”

“I get to pick and choose my jobs. Comes with building a reliable reputation. I guess I just like to take on the worst of the worst. It feels more fulfilling somehow, killing people who really deserve it. Maybe it’s my own fucked up version of a moral compass. If I even had one to begin with.”

Changmin leans in closer, shifting to look at him fully. He seems almost playful, like he’s about to tell him a secret. Younghoon swallows hard.

“Like that guy who attacked you at the bar? He would have killed you. He’s killed before. He used to stalk a lot of bars and clubs in the area. It’s bad for business if all the clientele ends up dead. Especially when the police don’t seem to be very good at their goddamn jobs.”

That answers another of Younghoon’s more pressing questions. He honestly can’t believe how forthcoming Changmin is actually being with this information. Something doesn't entirely add up and the dread starts to roll back in like a low tide. He still needs one more answer.

“Why did you save me?” It’s barely above a whisper. “You should have killed me. I could have talked at any moment.”

The air shifts, thick and heavy and Younghoon barely has time to react. Changmin moves quick, swinging a leg over his lap and settling on top of him. He holds Younghoon in place with a strong hand on his chin and one steady on his chest. Not that Younghoon could fight him again if he tried. Changmin’s grin is wicked as he leans in. The latent sensation Younghoon has felt building brick by brick since he’d laid eyes on him finally shows itself. _Desire_.

“But you didn’t talk. I had a feeling you’d be useful and I was right. You kept that pretty mouth shut for me and you’ll do it again, won’t you? I told you, I only kill when I have to. And I’d hate to dispose of something so beautiful without reason.”

His grip on Younghoon’s chin tightens and he gasps, leaning into the touch. Changmin’s lips press into his with a fire that catches him off guard. Younghoon’s eyes flutter, his body reacting like it’s out of his own control. He clenches his hands in the collar of Changmin’s jacket in an attempt to ground himself. 

Changmin kisses like he kills, with strength and with purpose and the ever present undercurrent of fear unlocks a heat in Younghoon’s gut that he’s never felt before. 

But it’s over just as quickly as it starts, Changmin leaning back and smiling deviously, laughing when Younghoon whimpers and tries to pull him back in.

“Ah ah ah, all in due time darling. We have work to do first. I just couldn’t help myself.” The way he tilts head and coos at Younghoon like he’s being a petulant child makes Younghoon’s breath shudder in his chest. “You  _ will _ help me? Won’t you?”

“Yes.” Younghoon’s voice sounds far away in his own ears.

“Good.” 

Changmin places one last chaste kiss to lips and climbs off him. Younghoon hears the front door open and close through the haze in his brain and he wonders how the fuck he’s even holding it together.

But later that night when he’s fucking into his own fist, moaning into the mattress and spilling all over his sheets picturing strong hands tightening around his throat; he feels the dam finally break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always welcome and appreciated! hopefully this made any damn sense lol. i have the full outline done so the next part will be chugging along.
> 
> find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/asaphyunjin) (18+ pls)


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